"I doubt it. What she wants is answers. And when she gets them, that'll be it."
Is that pessimistic? Probably. But unfounded? No, she doesn't think so. In fact, if she'd died at the hands of individuals she once called teammates, she'd never speak to them again. None of the Freelancers can be trusted, that's the lesson here. All of them, liars. All of them, cheats. Idiots, thieves, the best and worst, scattered and killed.
And that's fine. Connecticut can ask her myriad questions and she'll answer them. What reason does she have to lie? Why would she ever cover for the Director's ass after what he's done.
We have a common enemy, CT.
And I'm not one of them.
"Here's a question," weight shifted forward on bulked forearms, eyes like a hungry panther's. "How much do you know?"
He knew this one was coming eventually. It's only fair, since he just ambushed this woman with her own past she has a right to know how much of it he's sitting on.
"About you? Barely anything. But I know what happened to CT's home, and I know what she was doing while she was working under you. I have a pretty good idea about what your Director was up to, too. And why."
The last thing she needs is some random man knowing her business. Keep your head down, do your job and get out of here the second you're able. It's easy. Should be, that is, until a morbid curiosity entreats her forward in her seat.
"And what was it my Director was up to?"
She needs to hear it. The what, the why— like kindling to her fucked-familial-revenge-fire. How exactly did my father screw himself over?
He puts his hands up in the universal 'don't shoot' gesture, "You don't want to be friends, all right, but I'm willing to meet you in the middle if you change your mind." Yes, even after an introduction like this, he'd still extend the hand of friendship to her. Assuming she won't bite his fingers off.
"He was playing God with AI, the way I heard it. Was willing to cross every ethical line known to man, all in an attempt to bring his wife back to him in AI form. Not that I don't get where the impulse comes from, but he put that above all else including the lives of the people he was responsible for--not to mention a world ending war he was supposed to be helping fight. Selfish son of a bitch."
"I won't." A promise made lethal by her green-inferno stare. She isn't here to make friends— not a chance in hell. Certainly not with much larger fish to fry— like how she plans on getting out of here. (Any closer and Crichton might go home with two or three less digits. Maybe a whole hand less.)
And in a jarring flip of countenance, Carolina laughs. It's the kind of laugh that's absent of joy; an explosion of air so aggressive it feels almost animal.
Selfish son of a bitch. Selfish is right. Selfish, cruel, stupid. An old man who leaves behind nothing but violence, and it's that very trail Carolina tracks like a bloodhound. Soon it will end with her— that's if nobody's gotten to him first.
When she speaks, it has an almost sing-song quality. "And it all came cashing down on top of his head. He's buried so deep in his mistakes he has nowhere else to go. It's exactly how I want him."
Somehow that promise sounds an awful lot like a challenge to his ears, but she doesn't have to know that.
"If you say so."
Oof. Hm, nope. He doesn't like that laugh. That sounds a little too close to the way he laughs when he's one marble away from losing the whole set. ...Maybe he shouldn't judge.
"Hell of an evil laugh you got there. You practice that?" Wait, wait, don't shoot! Hands are up again! "Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. But, uh, in all seriousness, be careful treading down that path of revenge so you don't end up joining him at the bottom, huh?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2025-04-30 08:24 pm (UTC)"I doubt it. What she wants is answers. And when she gets them, that'll be it."
Is that pessimistic? Probably. But unfounded? No, she doesn't think so. In fact, if she'd died at the hands of individuals she once called teammates, she'd never speak to them again. None of the Freelancers can be trusted, that's the lesson here. All of them, liars. All of them, cheats. Idiots, thieves, the best and worst, scattered and killed.
"So you can wipe that smile off your face."
no subject
Date: 2025-04-30 09:18 pm (UTC)"She wants answers, of course she does. Wouldn't you? But What if you're wrong about that being all she wants? What if being here changes things?"
no subject
Date: 2025-05-01 12:27 pm (UTC)"Yes," Carolina says dryly. "I would."
And that's fine. Connecticut can ask her myriad questions and she'll answer them. What reason does she have to lie? Why would she ever cover for the Director's ass after what he's done.
We have a common enemy, CT.
And I'm not one of them.
"Here's a question," weight shifted forward on bulked forearms, eyes like a hungry panther's. "How much do you know?"
no subject
Date: 2025-05-02 09:36 pm (UTC)"About you? Barely anything. But I know what happened to CT's home, and I know what she was doing while she was working under you. I have a pretty good idea about what your Director was up to, too. And why."
no subject
Date: 2025-05-06 06:55 pm (UTC)"Good. We'll keep it that way."
The last thing she needs is some random man knowing her business. Keep your head down, do your job and get out of here the second you're able. It's easy. Should be, that is, until a morbid curiosity entreats her forward in her seat.
"And what was it my Director was up to?"
She needs to hear it. The what, the why— like kindling to her fucked-familial-revenge-fire. How exactly did my father screw himself over?
no subject
Date: 2025-05-20 07:35 pm (UTC)"He was playing God with AI, the way I heard it. Was willing to cross every ethical line known to man, all in an attempt to bring his wife back to him in AI form. Not that I don't get where the impulse comes from, but he put that above all else including the lives of the people he was responsible for--not to mention a world ending war he was supposed to be helping fight. Selfish son of a bitch."
no subject
Date: 2025-05-21 05:31 pm (UTC)"I won't." A promise made lethal by her green-inferno stare. She isn't here to make friends— not a chance in hell. Certainly not with much larger fish to fry— like how she plans on getting out of here. (Any closer and Crichton might go home with two or three less digits. Maybe a whole hand less.)
And in a jarring flip of countenance, Carolina laughs. It's the kind of laugh that's absent of joy; an explosion of air so aggressive it feels almost animal.
Selfish son of a bitch. Selfish is right. Selfish, cruel, stupid. An old man who leaves behind nothing but violence, and it's that very trail Carolina tracks like a bloodhound. Soon it will end with her— that's if nobody's gotten to him first.
When she speaks, it has an almost sing-song quality. "And it all came cashing down on top of his head. He's buried so deep in his mistakes he has nowhere else to go. It's exactly how I want him."
no subject
Date: 2025-05-28 08:35 pm (UTC)"If you say so."
Oof. Hm, nope. He doesn't like that laugh. That sounds a little too close to the way he laughs when he's one marble away from losing the whole set. ...Maybe he shouldn't judge.
"Hell of an evil laugh you got there. You practice that?" Wait, wait, don't shoot! Hands are up again! "Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. But, uh, in all seriousness, be careful treading down that path of revenge so you don't end up joining him at the bottom, huh?"